


Stay Young Forever

by MyChemicalFallOutBoyRomance



Series: Requests [2]
Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Adult Content, Age Play, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Caregiver Pete Wentz, Caregiver/little, Daddy Kink, Dom/sub Undertones, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Gay Sex, Light Angst, Light BDSM, Light Dom/sub, Little Patrick Stump, M/M, One Shot, Peterick, Rough Sex, Sex, Smut, Spit As Lube, Swearing, Trust Issues, part of a series but not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-02
Updated: 2018-03-02
Packaged: 2019-03-26 00:05:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13845861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MyChemicalFallOutBoyRomance/pseuds/MyChemicalFallOutBoyRomance
Summary: A peek into the lives of Caregiver Pete and Little Patrick - a little history and a little smut ;)





	Stay Young Forever

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Morgawse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morgawse/gifts).



> Hey sweeties!
> 
> So this one is another kinda new one for me...
> 
> This fic almost sits in my Process The Progress series but I've decided not to link it for various reasons. That series is about the kinky adventures of Frank and Gerard so I didn't want to add a story that doesn't contain them. However, Dada Pete and Little Patrick were first introduced in that series. They were only ever intended to be side characters but a few readers fell in love with them and wanted more... hence why I've created this.  
> If you're reading Process The Progress then there's a line in here that should tell you where it fits with that timeline. If you're not reading Process The Progress then you probably won't notice and it won't effect your enjoyment either way :)
> 
> Please be aware, Pete and Patrick are both consenting adult men here - their relationship is completely legal and consensual, hopefully that is clear in the fic.  
> I know cg/l relationships aren't to everyone's taste so if you don't wanna see it then don't read it!
> 
> Finally, this fic is gifted to the wonderful Morgawse <3 they are one of my amazing readers who alwys leave me such encouraging comments and the biggest drive in me writing this because they really wanted more! I know you've waited a long time for your gift, sweetie, so I hope it's worth it! Also, check out their writing, their bitter/sweet collection already kicks ass... and your feelings!

Pete had only been on the lookout for a little for a few weeks when he heard about Patrick.

 

It was Ryan who had introduced Pete to the idea of age play. He’d begged Pete to try it and when Pete finally gave in, Ryan found it wasn’t what he expected at all. But it was exactly what Pete had been looking for, even though he didn’t know it. Their differing views on their shared experience effectively ended their relationship. 

Pete started looking more into the scene, making a few online contacts with more experience and knowledge than him on the subject. After he had read almost everything he could and taken advice from those he had come to trust, he asked his closest confidant to help find him a match.

Pete was a very desirable caregiver. Not only were his looks and personality a huge draw, he also owned his own apartment and, thanks to a medical negligence case that had destroyed his semi professional soccer career, he was financially stable without having to go to work; ideal for looking after a very dependant partner.

A few potential littles were offered to Pete but none of them seemed quite right. Pete either found their experience too intimidating or he didn’t find their photo attractive.

Until Patrick’s information landed in his inbox.

Pete’s contact said it was a risk; Patrick was new to the scene too and had a nasty split from his previous caregiver. Pete didn’t think it seemed like too much of a problem and when he opened the photo he was instantly hooked in by those adorable eyes and chubby cheeks.

 

“He’s kinda nervous,” Pete’s contact, Rich, said when he showed up to Pete’s place with Patrick in tow.

“It’s okay,” Pete said kindly, smiling at them both and inviting them in.

Patrick followed close behind Rich, keeping his eyes down and hands stuffed in the pockets of his pale blue shorts. Rich was carrying a bulging bag of clothes, an elephant plushie poking out of the half zipped opening. Patrick stared at the bag longingly when the two older men sat on Pete’s couch.

“You want this, Pat?” Rich pulled the plushie out of the bag and Patrick nodded, the movement barely even noticeable. “You gonna say hi to Pete first?”

“Hi,” Patrick whispered, looking up at Pete.

“Hi, sweetheart. How you doing?”

“Okay…” Patrick said quietly, temporarily forgetting his plushie and smiling at Pete shyly.

“I like your shirt. That’s a tiger, right?” Pete said with a knowing smile, purposely getting the animal wrong.

“A lion,” Patrick said then giggled.

“You sure?” Pete narrowed his eyes but kept his smile kind.

“Yep,” Patrick answered. “Lion,” he said as he poked himself in the chest, his finger resting on the lion’s face on his shirt.

“Lion, okay,” Pete said then laughed lightly at how proud Patrick looked.

“Can I draw?” Patrick asked, looking between the two men.

“Who are you asking?” Rich said, trying to get a gauge on Patrick’s feelings. Patrick considered the question for a brief moment then pointed at Pete.

“Sure, there’s crayons and paper on the table,” Pete said. 

Patrick beamed happily then sat on the floor, cross-legged, in front of the coffee table. Patrick looked at the supplies then grabbed the orange crayon.

“I’m drawing you a tiger,” he said over his shoulder to Pete.

“I’d like that,” Pete answered honestly.

Rich dropped the plushie back into the bag and put his hand on Pete’s thigh then inclined his head towards the kitchen. Pete looked pointedly at Patrick and Rich nodded.

“Pat, me and Pete are gonna go make some coffee. You’ll be okay here?” Rich asked, getting a simple nod in response from Patrick since he was focussed on his drawing.

“He doesn’t seem that nervous,” Pete said when he half closed the kitchen door.

“No. He was but he’s a hell of a lot more comfortable around you than he was with me,” Rich answered.

“I guess that’s a good thing?”

“Yeah, it is if you like him.”

“Definitely. He’s adorable. But… do you know what happened with his last relationship?”

“Not really,” Rich said then sighed. “I know it was his first and it didn’t go well.”

“How long?”

“A week. All the guy would say was that Patrick ‘wasn’t worth the effort’ and Patrick won’t talk about the experience at all.”

“Not worth it in a sex way?” Pete queried, feeling a little sorry for Patrick that he’d been dismissed so easily and callously.

“Don’t think so. As far as I know he went there a virgin and the guy was adamant he was returning him the same condition. Pat doesn’t strike me as being difficult or violent so who knows?”

“Dada?” Patrick’s voice called from the front room, both the unexpected noise and word startling the two men.

“I reckon that’s you,” Rich said. Pete took a deep breath then poked his head out of the door.

“Pat?” Pete called back cautiously, catching sight of Patrick still colouring with the orange crayon.

“Can I have juice?” Patrick asked without looking away from his work.

“Sure, sweetheart.” Pete ducked back into the kitchen and smiled at Rich. “He wants juice.”

“Orange, I think,” Rich said.

“Apple,” Pete corrected. Rich raised his eyebrows but Pete ignored him and set about pouring Patrick a beaker of his favourite beverage; Pete had memorised Patrick’s bio so he knew he was right.

“So you know he’s 22 and 3, no family?” Rich confirmed.

“Yep. And he’s scared of clowns,” Pete added then returned to the front room.

“Pat, you wanna stay here with Pete for a while?” Rich asked once he was back in the room. Patrick took a mouthful of his juice then nodded happily.

“You’ll be okay if Rich goes now?” Pete asked hopefully.

“Yes, Dada,” Patrick trilled, closing his fist around a black crayon.

“Take care, buddy,” Rich said to Patrick then let Pete walk him to the door.

“Thanks, Rich,” Pete said genuinely.

“No problem. I don’t think he’ll change his mind but call me if he does. Or if you need anything at all then you know where I am.”

The two men hugged then broke apart laughing when they heard Patrick announce that the tiger was done.

 

The rest of the day passed in an instant. 

Patrick drew Pete not only the tiger, but an elephant, dog and a dragon. Pete showed Patrick around the apartment so he felt more at home. Pete had decorated his spare room into a nursery for Patrick; not wanting to pressure him, Pete had made sure the room was suitable for Patrick to play with his toys in and sleep there too if he wanted. Patrick seemed to like the room, and the bed, but was just as curious to see where Pete slept too.

The only real hitch came at bedtime. 

Pete had unpacked all of Patrick’s things and added the clothes to the ones he’d already bought in preparation for Patrick’s arrival. After Patrick had chosen a pair of pyjamas from the massive selection, he pulled his shoes off then his socks. He tried to tug his shirt off but got it stuck on his head so Pete helped free him. Pete unfastened Patrick’s shorts and helped him step out of them.

Once Patrick was wearing only his pastel blue briefs he blushed heavily and turned his back to Pete. Pete waited in silence for almost a minute but Patrick didn’t speak or move.

“You need clean underwear on, sweetheart,” Pete said softly. Patrick just shrugged, not even looking in Pete’s direction. “You wanna do it yourself?”

“Don’t look,” Patrick murmured, hanging his head.

“I won’t, Pat. Here,” Pete stood up from the bed and pushed a clean pair of briefs into Patrick’s hand. “I’ll wait outside.”

Pete tried not to feel too disheartened by Patrick’s behaviour. They had only just met and Patrick had come from a bad match, Pete knew that much. Pete tried not to take it personally but he seriously hoped it wasn’t because Patrick wasn’t attracted to him.

“Done,” Patrick’s quiet voice broke Pete out of his depressive thoughts.

“Excellent,” Pete said as happily as he could manage as he turned around. Patrick had his pyjamas on, the trousers inside out and the top back to front. “Well done, sweetheart.”

“Can I have a story?” Patrick asked, slipping his hand into Pete’s and resting his head on his shoulder.

“You can have two,” Pete promised, relief coursing through him at the feel of Patrick’s skin against his.

 

The pattern continued for the whole week; Patrick acting exactly the same way whenever he undressed and Pete letting him redress himself. 

Bath time on the second night together had Patrick in a blind panic. Pete promised to keep his eyes closed until Patrick was in the water and hidden by the bubbles. Patrick was convinced enough to get in the tub with his rubber duck but then had Pete turn away when he got out and wrap him in a towel without looking.

Pete debated calling Rich but everything else was going so well. They weren’t sharing a bed; Pete let Patrick choose and each night Patrick went into his own bedroom. There were plenty of hugs and casual touches, even a borderline passionate kiss goodnight every night, but nothing more.

More than the nagging doubt that Patrick wasn’t interested in Pete sexually was the worry that Patrick had been abused in his last relationship. Pete was concerned the undressing thing was because Patrick was trying to hide bruises or scars. Pete decided to take matters into his own hands after a few days.

 

“Pat? Can we talk a little bit?” Pete said kindly one afternoon when Patrick was sat on his lap, watching cartoons.

“Okay,” Patrick answered happily, turning his attention to Pete’s face.

“Are you happy here, with me?”

“Yes, Dada,” Patrick nodded seriously.

“Because if you’re not then you know you don’t have to stay.”

“Want to stay,” Patrick protested.

“I just want you to know you have choices. I want you to be honest with me, sweetheart, but if you’re too scared to say it then just write me a note or something and I can call Rich to come get you.”

“No,” Patrick cried in distress, clutching at Pete’s shirt with his strong hands. “Want to stay with you.”

“Shhh, it’s okay, sweetheart.” Pete kissed Patrick’s forehead. “I want you to stay too.”

“Stay,” Patrick said with a nod, his eyes starting to shimmer.

“I’m just a little worried, Pat. I understand if you’re shy and I don’t expect anything to happen between us until you’re ready but you know you can trust me, right?”

“Yes, Dada,” Patrick whispered, his words undoubtedly true.

“Did your last Dada do something to you, Pat? Did he hit you or… hurt you in some other way?”

“No,” Patrick said sadly. Pete knew it was the truth but he couldn’t work out why Patrick seemed so upset. “He didn’t touch me.”

“And you didn’t touch him?” Pete clarified.

“No…” Patrick said, his face looking guilty.

“That’s okay, sweetheart. It’s fine.” Pete hugged Patrick against his chest and stroked his sandy hair. 

 

That night, after tucking Patrick into his own bed, Pete woke up in the early hours with Patrick curled up beside him.

 

For the next week, Patrick chose Pete’s bed over his own at bedtime. The undressing and bath time routine stayed the same and nothing happened in the bed apart from their goodnight kiss and sleep.

 

After almost a week of sharing a bed, Pete woke up one night to find he was sleeping alone. After listening for a second and not hearing any sounds from the bathroom he panicked. Pete pulled back the sheets and swung his legs out of bed, nearly stepping on Patrick in the process.

“What are you doing?” Pete asked, rubbing his eyes. 

Patrick was sat, cross-legged, on the floor by Pete’s side of the bed. Patrick had his eyes fixed on Pete’s groin and reached out to rest his fingertip on the end of Pete’s hard dick, clearly visible through his boxers.

“I know,” Pete said with a sigh. Pete had been dreaming before he woke up, about Patrick finally letting him undress him… and more.

“I…” Patrick started then closed his mouth. He pressed his finger against Pete then moved it further down the firm flesh.

“Don’t worry about it, sweetheart.” Pete caught Patrick’s hand and gently pulled it away to kiss his palm. The last thing Pete wanted was for the man to feel pressured.

As soon as Pete let go of Patrick’s hand, the man pushed himself up onto his knees. Before Pete could question him, Patrick tugged Pete’s underwear out of the way and forced his lips over Pete’s dick.

“Pat…” Pete gasped, his eyes rolling back as Patrick gagged around him. 

Undeterred, Patrick sucked on Pete’s dick then started bobbing his head back and forth. It was clumsy and sloppy, exactly like it was Patrick’s first time, but Pete was already halfway there thanks to his dream. And it had been a long time since Pete had any action that wasn’t provided by his own fist.

Pete tried to push softly on Patrick’s shoulder but he didn’t seem to take the hint. Pete gritted his teeth, trying to hold back, and pressed firmer.

“Pat… fuck… move,” Pete panted out.

Pete pulled his hips back and got one hand against Patrick’s forehead to shove him away. Patrick took in a huge breath once his mouth was away from Pete, his lungs burning. It was already too late for Pete anyway but the cool air hitting his cock made his back arch then he came hard with a groan.

“Fuck…” Pete swore, breathing heavily.

Patrick looked down the white fluid on his leg. Curious, he dabbed at it with one finger then brought it to his lips.

“Ewww,” Patrick complained, his face puckering up at the taste.

“Yeah,” Pete said with a chuckle. “That’s why I told you to move.”

Pete pulled his t-shirt off and used it to clean off Patrick’s leg then himself before pulling his underwear back into place and throwing the shirt into the corner of the room. Pete smiled down at Patrick who was happily watching Pete with bright eyes.

“You wanna come back to bed, baby boy?” Pete asked, offering Patrick his hand.

“To sleep,” Patrick said firmly.

“Yeah, if that’s what you want, sweetheart.”

“And cuddle,” Patrick added, climbing into bed and snuggling up to Pete then closing his eyes.

 

Another week and still no change in Patrick’s rigid bath time and dressing routine. 

There hadn’t been any more sexual contact either; they didn’t even discuss that one random blow job after the event. The mixed signals were starting to confuse Pete and he feared he was in serious danger of losing an amazing man who had started to become very significant in his life.

 

“Come sit with me, sweetheart,” Pete said to Patrick after lunch one day. Patrick had already settled on the floor but quickly got up to sit on Pete’s lap.

“Are you sad?” Patrick asked in a quiet voice, studying Pete’s serious face.

“No, baby boy. There’s just something on my mind. It’s about you.” 

“Have I been bad?” Patrick’s face crumbled, his lower lip wobbling.

“No, sweetheart, no.” Pete stroked down Patrick’s back and kissed the top of his head. “Not bad. I just… you don’t want me to see you still.”

“Don’t want to leave,” Patrick said sadly.

“I’m not saying that. It just makes me think you don’t trust me or you don’t like me… don’t want me.”

Patrick’s face screwed up in concentration. He digested Pete’s words in silence while Pete still kept his fingers moving up and down Patrick’s spine. Patrick sighed then looked into Pete’s eyes.

“You won’t make me leave?” Patrick asked.

“No, Pat. You can leave if you want to but I’m not going to make you,” Pete promised.

“Small,” Patrick whispered as tears started to flood his eyes.

“Shhh, sweetheart,” Pete cooed, catching the one tear that rolled over Patrick’s cheek. “I don’t know what you mean, Pat.”

“It’s small,” Patrick mumbled, pointing to his groin as he blushed.

“Oh,” Pete said, finally understanding. “So? They all work the same, sweetheart, big or small.”

Pete knew he was barely nudging average himself. He’d never had any complaints though and he was a firm believer in size doesn’t matter. Patrick looked at Pete and pulled in a shuddering breath.

“My other Dada…” Patrick started then closed his mouth when his eyes started to water again.

“He made you leave because of that,” Pete guessed, anger bubbling in his stomach that someone could be so cruel to such a sweet man. Patrick nodded, shaking hot tears into his lap. “Sweetheart, I don’t care about that. Mine’s not big. It doesn’t matter.”

“Really?” Patrick sniffed, looking up again.

“Really.” Pete used both of his thumbs to swipe away Patrick’s tears. “I like you, Pat, a lot. You’re my baby boy and I think… I think you could be the most special baby boy to me ever, do you understand?”

“Yes, Dada,” Patrick said quietly, his cheeks glowing redder.

“So whenever you’re ready to show me the only thing it’s gonna make me do is smile. I’m not gonna be angry or make you leave.”

“Okay.” Patrick put his arms around Pete’s neck and hugged him, burying his face against Pete’s neck.

“And whenever you’re ready, I’ll prove to you that size doesn’t matter. Not for me or you. I’ll make you feel really good, sweetheart, I promise.”

“You’ll touch it?” Patrick asked, his face still hidden.

“Sure, but only when you’re ready for me to.”

“Put your mouth on it?”

“Oh definitely.” Pete squeezed Patrick’s ribs and he giggled.

“Other things?” Patrick asked shyly, peeking up at Pete. 

“Lots of other things. When you’re ready.”

“I like you, Dada,” Patrick said quietly. “A lot.”

“That makes me happy, baby boy.”

 

That night Patrick chose what Pete had learnt were his favourite pyjamas. As usual he needed help getting his shirt off over his head but when he got down to his underwear he removed them without hesitation.

Pete looked into Patrick’s anxious eyes and smiled warmly at him. Patrick took a deep breath, since he had been holding it, and smiled back. Pete only let his eyes briefly pass over the man’s groin as he held out his underwear for him to step into. It was smaller than Pete’s but not to the extent that it was worth crying over.

When Pete pulled the material over Patrick’s hips he realised how much the man was trembling. Pete wished he knew who Patrick’s last caregiver had been so he could beat the shit out of the guy for screwing up Patrick so badly and unnecessarily.

“You remember the fox goes at the front?” Pete said with a smile as he passed Patrick his pyjama top.

“It’s a cat, Dada,” Patrick said with a giggle, thrusting the printed cat towards Pete’s face.

“You sure? Maybe you can draw me one tomorrow.”

“I’ll draw you a fox,” Patrick said, tugging the material over his head.

“I’d like that,” Pete said, just like the day he had met Patrick.

 

Pete knew even then, that moment was when it started; he was falling in love with Patrick. The rush of emotion he felt when Patrick bravely bared himself so completely after his previous experience almost overwhelmed Pete. He cried about it after Patrick had fallen asleep, so proud and impressed that Patrick had such faith and trust in him.

 

After that their relationship progressed steadily, Pete’s devotion growing stronger every day as Patrick slowly became his entire world. Two years had passed in the blink of an eye and both men were irrevocably bound; madly in love and, in so many ways, reliant on each other.

 

Pete watched Patrick as he slept. At first he was quite peaceful, his mouth slightly parted in a half smile, but after a few minutes Pete noticed a change. Patrick's lips started to twitch and his forehead became furrowed. Regular deep breaths turned to shallow pants with small whines interspersed. 

Pete was on the verge of waking Patrick up with suddenly the man's eyes flew open, a pained cry tearing out of his throat.

"Hey, shhhh, baby boy," Pete cooed, quickly wrapping his arms around Patrick's shaking body and pulling the man onto his lap.

Patrick flinched, his whole body jerking, then half screamed before realising it was Pete who had hold of him. Patrick buried his face in Pete's neck.

"It's okay, sweetheart, I've got you," Pete whispered against Patrick's ear.

"Dream," Patrick whimpered against Pete's neck.

"A bad dream, baby, I know." Pete squeezed Patrick tighter to his chest, like he could hug away whatever had scared him.

Patrick clung to Pete until his shaking subsided and his breathing was closer to normal. Pete whispered soothing words the whole time, keeping his voice much calmer than he felt.

"Sorry, Dada," Patrick mumbled once he pulled his head away from Pete.

"There's nothing to be sorry for, sweetheart. Everyone gets scared sometimes."

Patrick nodded once then swiped the back of his hand over his damp cheek. Pete pulled off his t-shirt and used it to mop up the last of Patrick's tears.

"It was a bad dream," Patrick whispered.

"You wanna tell me about it?"

"Scary..." Patrick said then looked down at Pete's ruined tee on the bed.

"That's okay; Dada's brave. And I promise I'll look after you if you get scared."

"There was... a bad man," Patrick said quietly. "With a mask."

"He wasn't real, sweetheart." Pete kissed Patrick's forehead.

"Chased me... kicked me." Patrick shivered and looked up at Pete, a hint of fear still in his eyes.

"You're safe here with me. I won't let anyone hurt you, baby." Patrick nodded once, his face distracted. 

"You do," Patrick finally whispered. "You."

"Me? When?" Pete's heart was pounding in his chest, desperately trying to think of how or when he had scared or upset Patrick.

Patrick kept his eyes locked with Pete's then moved Pete's hands onto his hips. Pete knew beneath Patrick's pyjamas, where his hands were resting, were fading bruises that exactly matched Pete's fingertips. Patrick left Pete's hands in place then pulled at the neck of his pyjama top, showing Pete the pale yellow remains of a hickey on his collarbone. Then Patrick very deliberately pressed down into Pete's lap.

"I understand, baby," Pete said softly, his worry melting into relief and arousal. "But that's because we both want to and it feels good, right?"

"Yeah," Patrick nodded then looked down.

"What?" Pete could tell Patrick was thinking about something; he knew Patrick wasn't lying about it feeling good when Pete was rough but there was something else there. Pete put his hand under Patrick's chin, tilting his head up so he had to look at him. Patrick's eyes were half closed but he peered up through his lashes.

"Will you hurt me, Dada?" Patrick asked in a low voice, grinding against Pete again. Pete's breath caught in his throat and it took all his willpower not to press back against Patrick's ass.

"Do you know what you do to me when you say things like that, baby boy?" Pete growled, digging his fingers into Patrick's soft flesh.

Dirty talk was one of the very few things Pete missed about being in a more traditional relationship. But on rare occasion, Patrick would say something just smutty enough in his sweet, innocent voice that it made Pete’s head spin.

“You like it,” Patrick said shyly, giggling slightly.

“I love it,” Pete corrected then kissed Patrick hard. “Want me to blow you?”

“No,” Patrick said then squirmed on Pete’s lap. “Want it.”

“Want what, baby boy?” Pete yanked Patrick’s top off then kissed at his chest.

“Want it,” Patrick whined, rotating his hips again to cause friction against Pete’s hard dick.

“We can’t, Pat; I threw the lube out cos of the rash.” Pete hadn’t had a chance to go shopping in the few days since they had discovered the new lube they had used caused an allergic reaction on Patrick’s skin.

“Want it,” Patrick repeated his words and the motion.

“So do I, sweetheart, but listen; without the lube it would…”

“Hurt?” Patrick finished hopefully.

Pete stared at Patrick, his mouth slightly open and breathing suddenly shallow. A moment of loaded silence passed between the two men then Pete had Patrick’s face in his hands, kissing him with as much force as he could muster.

Patrick was gasping when Pete released his mouth. The anticipation was clearly too much because Patrick reached down and palmed himself through his clothes, moaning softly at the contact.

“No,” Pete chastised, catching Patrick’s hand by the wrist and pulling it away.

“Dada…” Patrick started but Pete made his words dissolve into another moan when he cupped his hand over Patrick’s hard cock.

“This is my favourite toy. Mine. And you know I don’t like to share.” 

Pete tore at Patrick’s pyjama bottoms, tugging them off along with his underwear. Patrick whined quietly when Pete got off the bed. Pete removed his own boxers then found a length of soft rope in the drawer by the bed.

“This will keep your hands where they should be,” Pete said, holding up the cord for Patrick’s examination. “Hands and knees.”

Patrick didn’t question anything or even really look at what Pete was holding, he just scrambled into position on the bed. Pete moved a pillow so it was just in front of Patrick’s hands then got back on the bed behind him.

“Give me your hands, baby boy. You can rest on the pillow.”

Patrick leaned forward, turning his head as he dropped lower so his cheek was resting on the pillow. He moved his hands behind him and stayed silent while Pete bound his wrists together against the small of his back.

“Tell me how we stop,” Pete said as he pulled on the rope, making sure it was secure but not tight enough to cause any real damage.

“Buffalo,” Patrick recited the safe word he had only ever said in this way; at Pete’s request to check he still remembered it.

“Good boy.”

Pete spat into his hand then used the slimy liquid to coat two fingers. Patrick whined when Pete pushed his fingertip into his ass. He let Patrick take a deep breath before he continued, pushing knuckle deep.

“It’ll be worse than this when it’s my dick,” Pete warned once his finger was fully inside. “You sure you still want it?”

“Yes, Dada,” Patrick whispered then bit his lip when Pete started twisting his finger.

Torn between concern over Patrick’s pain threshold and his request for something rough, Pete worked quickly but tried to stay gentle while he made enough room for a second finger. Patrick let out half a sob when Pete had two entire fingers inside him, pressing his face further into the pillow.

“You good, baby?” Pete stroked Patrick’s back with his other hand.

“Yes,” came Patrick’s muffled response.

Pete dropped his head to drip more spit directly onto Patrick’s ass, moving his fingers back and forth a little as he did. Patrick slowly let out more and more sounds of pleasure, an occasional hiss or broken cry still mixed in.

“Hurting?” Pete asked when he eased his fingers out and Patrick let out a sob.

“Yes, Dada,” Patrick admitted in a small voice.

“Too much or like you wanted?”

“Wanted,” Patrick repeated weakly with a nod.

“Spit for me then.” 

Pete placed his hand on the pillow by Patrick’s lips. Patrick fired out as much liquid as he could into Pete’s palm. Pete smiled at the impressive quantity then moaned as he smothered it over his aching dick.

Pete knew he should go easy but as soon as he was pressed up against Patrick he couldn’t hold back; Pete worked himself in with one might shove of his hips, not stopping until he bottomed out. Pete was biting his lip in concentration so he clearly heard the string of unintelligible noise that spilled from Patrick’s lips.

“No, no, no,” Pete said quickly. “No you don’t, not yet.”

“I…” Patrick murmured, followed by another chain of nonsense.

“I said no.” 

Pete slapped Patrick’s thigh then pulled back out, Patrick barely even whimpering. Pete climbed off the bed and crossed the room as quick as he could to the tall dresser.

“You know how to choose your fucking moments, Pat,” Pete grumbled under his breath as he raked through the top drawer.

Pete returned to the bed, kneeling behind Patrick again, and pressed a small square of red silk against Patrick’s hand. Patrick closed his fingers around it and mumbled something that half sounded like a thank you.

“Stay with me, baby boy,” Pete whispered as he plunged back inside the satisfying heat of Patrick.

It normally took a lot more to get Patrick to subspace, hence why Pete was so unprepared. He’d read a lot about it during his research phase but seeing someone experience it was completely different. The first signs for Patrick were always the jumbled nonsensical words; eventually it would fade into feral noises that Pete had come to be able to interpret as positive and negative (though to the untrained ear they sounded largely the same). Motor skills were also at a loss once he was gone, only his fingers and toes remaining under his control which at least allowed him a secondary way to call the action off if he needed.

Pete pulled almost all of the way out then sunk back into Patrick with a deep groan. By the third heavy thrust, Pete caught the look in Patrick’s blown out eyes that told him that the chemical reaction had completely taken over and the man was flying. Pete slapped Patrick’s ass just to be sure and was rewarded with a loud, positive rumble from Patrick’s chest.

“That’s right, baby boy.” Pete slammed into Patrick again, letting out a deep groan himself. “There’s only me and you now, Pat.” 

Pete dug his fingers into Patrick’s hips, pushing against the faded bruises and knowing they would be bright purple again by the evening.

Pete threw all of his weight into fucking Patrick, working faster and harder with each positive growl from his partner. Pete held onto Patrick’s restraint to give him better leverage to move faster and deeper.

“You’re doing so good, baby. Taking Dada’s cock so well,” Pete murmured soothingly, strangely at odds with his ruthless pounding.

Pete felt the bolt of electricity striking his spine, heat pooling in his stomach as he kept his hips rolling and crashing against Patrick. It never took Patrick more than two strokes to cum if he happened to bliss out before they got that far so Pete waited until he could see white lights flashing behind his eyes before reaching between Patrick’s legs.

“Feels so good, sweetheart, so tight for Dada,” Pete whispered as his hips juddered of their own accord. Patrick let out a feral roar as he spilled over Pete’s fist. The unbelievable tightening around Pete’s cock had him peaking with his lover’s name falling from his lips.

As soon as his vision cleared, Pete glanced at Patrick’s hands to check the silk was still between his fingers. Pete smiled stupidly at the red material Patrick was clutching then pulled one string of the knot so the rope came undone. Patrick’s arms fell heavily to the bed.

Pete put his hands on Patrick’s hips, out of the way of the dark finger marks, as he slowly pulled out, his body still shivering slightly. Patrick didn’t make a sound apart from his deep breathing.

“You’re not coming back for a while, are you?” Pete said, largely to himself because he knew Patrick was beyond answering him.

Pete carefully straightened Patrick’s legs, keeping a hand on his stomach to lay him flat on the bed. Pete found his t-shirt on the bed and used it to wipe his hand on and catch some of the cum already leaking out of Patrick’s ass.

Pete climbed into the bed and rolled Patrick until he was lying against his side. Pete lifted Patrick’s head up, kissing his lips then resting his head on his tattooed chest.

“You take as long you need, baby boy,” Pete cooed as he stroked Patrick’s face. “I love you, Patrick.”


End file.
